The Hero is Missing
by darkdragon0246
Summary: What would happen if Barry wasn't there to save Jill? *Blood/Gore and Strong Language*


**NOTE: This story contains graphic depictions of blood and gore, strong language, and may not be suitable for all ages.**

**DISCLAIMER: All characters and events within belong to Capcom. I do not claim any of it.**

****If you want another chapter, please review and tell me.****

 How much luck could one woman receive? Jill Valentine had stumbled upon a trophy shotgun, loaded and ready, in a loungeroom not far from the main hall. The Remington was set on top of two small hooks in the wall, across from an ancient fireplace. The smell of heavy smoke still lingered in the air, along with the putrid scent of rotting flesh. Jill had managed to put down four virus carriers in the hallway leading to this room, and the nasty smell crept under the doors, and was stamped into Jill's clothing. From the rancid hallway, there were four other doors than the one she came from. By chance she opened up the second to last, leading into a small, square room, lacking furniture and any other details. Dust occasionally fell from the ceiling, but nothing to worry about. The other door in the small room led to the current stronghold of Miss Valentine. A package of ink ribbons sat under a pile of dusty papers, seeming to be old lab reports. A small dagger sat at the edge of the coffee table, and Jill had found out firsthand how soft the zombies' flesh was. Throughout the mansion were these small daggers, and they really came in handy. The old flowers on the table smelled of Iris, but they were too far gone to tell. The fireplace had no trace of life, no dying embers to see. The cold windows stared out into the dense forest, from which the original hellhounds sprang forth. 

 The shotgun was heavy in her hands, so she decided to sling it around her back. She remembered the slight click the hooks made when they were releaved of the pressure and weight of the shotgun. At first, the only thing she could think of was some hideous trap, set up to kill the thief of the armament. Maybe poison gas would leak into the room, or some fiendish creature would be set loose to destroy her. But her worries soon subsided when nothing happened. Shrugging it off, she headed for the door she came through. One last glance around the room told her that she found all that was needed. As she reached for the doorknob, she heard what sounded like stone on stone grinding somewhere distant, maybe outside the mansion. She turned the doorknob, making it squeak from years of neglect. Pushing the door open, she stepped into the small antechamber. The sound of mechanical grinding seemed louder now, like it was...

_...right above her head._

 Looking up, Jill saw the ceiling slowly descending, humming the song of impending death. The fall of dust became increasingly irritant, stinging her eyes while she looked up. Rubbing her eyes in frantic excitement, she ran for the opposite door. Clutching the handle as if it were her savior, she jerked it side to side, her eyes widening to a furious demeanor.

 _It won't budge!! She yelled at herself, trying to act bravely, but giving up and returning to feverish insanity._

 She backed into the small room, trying to think of another escape route. The door back to the lounge was also jammed, narrowing her chances of survival to about 0. If Barry of Wesker or Chris could hear her, maybe they'd come to her rescue. All of her thoughts were racing through her head as the ceiling crept closer and closer.

_ Shit shit shit. gonnadiegonnadiegonnadie._

 "Barry, Wesker, Chris, HELP!!" She clawed at the door, praying someone would hear her. After a few seconds of awkward silence, save for the crumbling of stone, she decided she had to do this herself.

_ The shotgun!!_

 Jill reached behind her back, swinging the massive firearm around to her arms. Bringing the shotgun to her shoulder, she aimed at the doorknob, her sweating fingers fumbling for the trigger. Once she felt the cold piece of metal, she pulled it towards her, sending buckshot into the metal knob, and obliterating the wood around it. The recoil of the weapon wasn't as bad as she imagined, but she might have a fractured collarbone.

_ At least I will have my life._

 She dropped the shotgun, letting it swing to her side. Raising her leg high into the air, she landed a strong kick to the door frame. It budged a little, but it wasn't open as much as she needed it to be. The ceiling rained dust into her eyes as she looked up. It was now only inches from her head. She dropped to the floor, putting herself on her back. She kicked a few more times at the door, each one cracking the frame more and more. The light of the hall peered in, calling out to her. It was life, and she needed to get to it. Raising the shotgun once more in a seemingly futile action, she rammed the butt of the gun into the frame. The wood cracked open in it's final act of glory.

_ Open at last!! Shit it's right above me!!_

 As Jill scrambled to the open door, she noticed the ceiling was dangerously close to her. A few more seconds and she would be flattened into a bloody mess. She scurried towards the door, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

_ I can't die! Not after all that!! I have to see Chris again!!_

 Freeing her upper body from the room, she frantically tried to pull her legs out of the crushing hell. She swung herself out of there, but had dropped her handgun in the process. Realizing it could save her from this mansion later, she knew she had to get it. Looking back at the antechamber of death, she saw her gun laying right inside the door. Reaching for it in a flash, she felt her stiff fingers wrap around the grip...

 ...but didn't notice the stone ceiling closing in on her hand. The rock slab made contact with her hand before she could pull it out of the room. Hearing the cracking before feeling it, she looked down to see her hand getting crushed under the massive weight. The soft flesh of her knuckles tore away as the stone came down. Blood sprayed the scene as bone jolted through skin, scraping against rock, making a sound like nails on a chalkboard. Releasing her grip on the gun, she was able to pull her arm free. Finally out of the room, she clutched her hand in pain.

 "Shit! God damn...! My hand!!" 

 Then suddenly a shot rang out. Where it came from was unknown, until Jill looked back at the stone room. The pressure of the stone made the gun fire, and it was aimed right at her leg. Dazed for a minute, she finally felt the pain shoot up her leg and into the rest of her body. The bullet entered towards the bottom of her calf, making the red liquid stream down her leg. The blood seeped into her boot, creating a squishy sound when she tried to stand up. Falling right back down, she grabbed the bottom of her shirt, and tore a piece of fabric off. She wrapped it around her leg, tying a knot securely to stop the blood flow. Hobbling to her feet, she started concentrating on the bigger issue at hand.

 The broken, bloody mess of a hand bled profusely. The blood encrusted knuckles were torn and ravaged. Jill took more fabric to wrap around her more serious wound. She first grabbed her hand by the palm, and bit her lip for what she planned to do. If she didn't want it to heal wrong, she'd have to correct it. Cracking the fingers back into place, she screamed a muffled scream, trying not to alert her stalkers to her current position. Panting heavily, tears streaming down her cheeks, she proceeded to wrap her wounds. Once the cloth was bound tightly around her hand, she cursed to herself quietly. At least she remembered to use her recessive hand to reach for the gun, and her trigger finger and hand were untouched. Using the wall to support herself, she readied her equipment for the continuing journey through the mansion.

_ Barry, where the hell were you when I needed you the most? You better not leave me by myself next time we meet._

 Tears lightly crawling down her face, from both the physical pain and mental torture, Jill set off to find her escape route...


End file.
